If music
by EmilyMayVTheCrazyDinosaurGirl
Summary: If music be the food of love, play on.


_I Own nothing but my dreams, and my imagination. I keep finding new stories to tell, which fuel new ideas for all my current CSI dramas._

_Reviews fuel me further, and help me construct new pages, and to improve on my skills._

If music be the food of love, play on, play loud. Drown me in rhythmic beats and guitar strums. Numb my senses with a heavenly choir, infuse me with the darkest lyrics. Confuse my mind with every chime, every beat, every drum strike. Consume my mind with tender love felt songs, and bring distraction to my euphoria.

Allow music to sweep through me, into every fibre of my being, to the darkest pit of my stomach, the furthest reaches of my mind, infuse me until I am contented, placid, until I no longer feel.

Give me the strength to see beyond the blue eyes, into the world hidden behind. Wash my body in music, so I do not have to wash my body in dismay. Bring my whispering Jesus forth, allow him to meet with tainted Cailifornaction.

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Give me strength by first submerging and drowning me in that which I must learn to leave behind. Bring me close to what I desire, so I may see I do not need it.

Allow Pluto to rise, Boris to reign supreme, and for the knowing lyrics to hold true.

Indeed, if music be the food, the lyrics the air and the melody my heart beat, place a resin on my heart string. Allow me to be the wood to my own fire, so I can consume my own self, and let me learn to float on this ocean of music, before I sink. My appetite catered for. Indeed, If music is.

If music is, and will not work to cure me, to turn me away from the hunger, to rid me of this heartache, allow the plot lines to grow thicker.

Tangle me with the golden locks that fall from her head, curled, poised, alive. Medusa. Allow me to look into the eyes that shall turn me into brittle stone. Entwine me within tentative rays of sunshine, laced with golden hay. Feed me with feathers, so the quill can pierce my heart. Supply me with the wings of America, so I can soar towards the sun.

Bury me within the desert, allow the Jackdor to be my friend. The rooks and the ravens, as black as the poison in my system. Deliver me from temptation.

Watch the crab sidle towards the willow tree. Allow me to watch as the tree grows, it's branches reaching out, the soft leaves rustling in the wind, as I, the crab, hear nothing but the raging of the seas.

If music fills the gap within my being, the hunger in my soul, my mind shall grow contented and peaceful whilst the words of Cockahoop soothe me.

Remove the temptation she holds over me with every note played.

Turn my mind away from the first apple, and towards the albino snake. Deafen me so I too am blind. Remove all images and thoughts of her from my mind, allow me to stand strong once again. Caress me with a promenade of trombones and harps. Harps with resonating tones that will send ripples through out my body. Ripples of relief that will allow my blood to run, warmth to return to my body, attracting the stuff of nightmares, so that I can escape further from what this diet denies me.

Allow me to count my blessings, to recite the formulas that I know, bringing respite to my torment, as I gladly allow myself to drown. Pass on my blindness, so I wont be found until the water, the music, fades away.

When I am free.

Remove the chains and replace them with chords. Notes. Lyric after lyric.

Electrify my body so that it my become pure once again, a lonely listener within a concert. A rock concert where I am surrounded my Medusa's conquest.

Remove the witch from my eye lash, and allow Eris to take over, so that destruction can serge throughout and crumble the walls I have built. Allow Eris to take me to the underworld, so I can escape further still from my unsuspecting Aphrodite.

Confine me to the fires and chains of Hades so I can let go of my love for Catherine. Let the fires burn forth and char the glistening tree, to give protection to the crab as it escapes to the singing undulating waves.

Wrap me in the song strong enough to comfort me when I mourn a loss I never had, fill me with music even when I am sick, full.

Stuff it into the places my mind can't reach, so I have no escape. Weigh my body down so my hand can not reach out to her. Tease her.

Fill me with the thunder needed so I can reject her from my mind and heart, before she can reject me from this dance. Light my body with lightening, so that for a moment I can shine more brightly than the golden sun that radiates from her.

Pump it. Pump it. Pump it. Louder. Louder. Louder still. Burst my ear drums, so that this illusion I have fooled myself with for so long can burst. Allow the rain drops to fall, to absorb themselves into the fibres of my being, so music and water can coincide and stop me from falling once again.

Remove the spell, and turn my body to ash so that Hades can cast a new spell.

Allow me to rise as the Phoenix.

Remove the resin, let oxygen flow freely, and strength raise my hands as I remove Medusa's head, no longer will I turn to stone.

No longer will I bend and break.

I am not a broken toy. I am Sara Sidle, and I do not need to shuffle, or dance, or be commanded by a beauty that burns.

Remove Catherine from my dreams, let the music play.

If music be the food of love, play on, play louder, for I am deaf.


End file.
